


Stay, Because You Make Me Feel Okay

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: ADHD, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Fluff, Gen, Panic Attacks, Touring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 21:08:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13373100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Dallon helps Brendon out with his anxiety while touring. He's very sweet, patient and understanding. (Dallon's POV)





	Stay, Because You Make Me Feel Okay

**Author's Note:**

> PSA: Tony is Panic! At The Disco's tour manager, in case you start reading and question to yourself "who the fuck is Tony?"
> 
> Anyways, enjoy. It's super sweet and one of my favourite oneshots I've written so far.

I step out from the tour bus and walk towards the venue, assuming the guys are following behind. When I reach the back entrance, I turn my head to see Zack and Tony right behind me with a key. Behind _them_ , I see Kenny and Dan chatting away with a roadie, and Brendon tugging the sleeves of his hoodie, looking around at nothing in particular, refusing to rest his gaze.

 

Tony opens the door and I’m the first one let in. Nobody’s noticed the change because it’s no big deal, but Brendon’s usually the one to walk in first. As we continue through the corridor, I slow down my walking and eventually everyone passes by me and I’m stood walking next to Brendon at the back. “Are you okay?” I quietly ask him.

 

He continues chewing his lip and looking around silent and unaware, as though my speech never even reached his ears for a full five seconds before he finally answers, “Oh, what? Oh, yeah. Yeah.”

 

I frown, “You look really anxious.”

 

“Uh… a little,” he admits and looks down at his feet as we continue to walk. He’s openly spoken about his struggles with anxiety and ADHD because when we’re touring, everybody’s with each other all the time, so it’s important to know how to deal with him in the event that he may have a panic attack or get really agitated.

 

“Is there any way I can help?” I offer.

 

“No, not really,” he sighs. Under his breath, I hear him mutter, “Nothing’ll end this hopeless case.” For him, that was extremely out of character, which worries me.

 

“Hey,” I place my hand on his shoulder, “it’s okay.”

 

He stops walking and looks at me. I stop too, the same way my heart almost stops beating. “Dallon, it’s not fucking okay.” He swallows and closes his eyes. “I’m literally about to have a panic attack. It’s really not okay.”

 

“We can go someplace else, if that’ll help you calm down. Then we can come back when you’re feeling better.”

 

“But _where_?” he stresses and his face falls as though he’s falling apart. Seeing him when he’s anxious or upset is really difficult. It’s fucking heart-breaking, so I try my hardest just to make him feel better, as a good friend should.

 

“We can sit on a bench outside, go to the McDonald’s over the road… whatever you like.”

 

He leans back on the wall and I notice his breathing is starting to get heavier. “Dallon, people are going to recognise us, fucking _hell_ , you idiot. We’re literally performing here later. There’s going to be _more_ than a few fans out there.” I don’t take offence at his use of the term idiot to describe me because 1. He’s not wrong, and 2. I can only imagine how messy it is up in his mind right now. There’s no room for rationalising thoughts and words before they fly out.

 

“How about we go out the same back door we just came through and sit there for a bit. It’s nice and breezy out there and it’ll help you to cool down. Nobody can even get to that bit.”

 

“Okay, okay. Sure.”

 

I put my arm over his shoulder and walk him back down the corridor. I can feel him gradually losing control of his breath under my hold of him as his shoulders rise and fall with his chest. God, I wish I could help and just make it stop with the wave of a wand.

 

We reach the door and I drop my arm from him to open the door. “After you,” I say once it’s open. He walks through and I prop it open with a conveniently placed brick on the floor.

 

He sits on the ground with his knees up and puts his head in his hands. I sit down in front of him and cross my legs. I hope to God he’s not crying. I gently push his knees down to prompt him to put them down and lift his head, and he does so. He’s not crying, but he’s pale and hyperventilating.

 

“Hey, remember to breathe,” I begin. I slowly speak, “Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Lean back and let it all move through you. You’re safe.”

 

He listens, pressing his body up against the wall, closing his eyes. Air fills his lungs through his nostrils and falls through his parted lips. “That’s it, keep going,” I reassure him. He nods with his eyes still shut.  He takes another deep breath.

 

Opening his eyes, he looks at me and asks “Can I have a hug?”

 

I grin and laugh. I lean forward and pull him in. He holds on _so_ tight and doesn’t let go for a while. I’m okay with this; as long as he feels better, I don’t mind. I want to be there for him.

 

When he pulls away, I do too. I search his face and ask “How are you feeling now?”

 

“Better.” He nods. “Thank you. You’re so understanding when it comes to this. I seriously appreciate it.”

 

“Of course, Brendon. Do you feel ready to go back, or do you want to sit and talk for a bit?”

 

“Do you mind staying here for a bit? You can go if you want, though. I just need to sit in the fresh air for a bit. I don’t think I’m done winding down yet.”

 

“No, of course. I’ll stay. If you want me to…”

 

“Yeah, stay.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it. I swear, I'll stop flooding the archive with anxiety fics some day. I just find it so sweet and comforting, imagining the boys helping each other out, you know?
> 
> \- Nicole xx


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